


Take My Hand

by Dragonflies_and_Katydids



Series: Power of Two [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bad Days, Bratting, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Light Bondage, M/M, Orgasm Delay, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 16:59:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11787486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonflies_and_Katydids/pseuds/Dragonflies_and_Katydids
Summary: Dorian tries to bring his bad day home from work with him. Bull's having none of it.(This fits no particular place inPower of Two, just wherever you like.)





	Take My Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dod123](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dod123/gifts).



> Take me now, baby, here as I am  
> Hold me close, try and understand  
> Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe  
> Love is a banquet on which we feed
> 
> Come on now, try and understand  
> The way I feel under your command  
> Take my hand, as the sun descends  
> They can't hurt you now
> 
> Patti Smith, "Because the Night"

The front door slamming open is the first clue Bull gets that his quiet evening at home might not be so quiet after all, and he looks up from his phone, blinking in surprise. Dorian has never been a door-slammer; if anything, he's more likely to close a door extra quietly if he's pissed. When the sound of the door bouncing off the rubber stop is followed by the sound of Dorian stomping into the entryway, which is followed in turn by the front door slamming shut, Bull scrambles off the sofa, alarmed.

"Dorian?" he calls, even though he knows that's who it has to be.

"I'm here," Dorian calls back, the words clipped and precise. He doesn’t come into the living room, though, just stomps past and straight into the bedroom, and Bull follows, even more alarmed.

In the bedroom, Dorian is getting undressed, every movement violent, like his clothes are attacking him and he needs to get them off _now_. His suit jacket is already hung in the closet, and he's working on his tie, pulling at the knot so hard Bull is half afraid he's going to choke himself.

"Hey," Bull says cautiously. Normally he'd give Dorian a kiss hello without thinking twice about it, but somehow, that doesn't seem like a good idea right now. He's not sure he wouldn't get bitten in a very not-fun way.

Dorian jerks his chin up in something that barely qualifies as a nod.

The silence that follows is painful. "Bad day?" Bull asks. That's a pretty safe bet, actually. The real question is, what kind of bad day.

Dorian unclenches his jaw long enough to spit out, "Yes," before he goes back to assaulting his clothes. He finishes unknotting his tie and leaves the ends hanging down as he fights with the top button of his shirt, knuckles digging in to his own throat before the button finally comes free.

"Want to talk about it?" Bull asks.

For a second, he thinks Dorian isn't going to answer, then he says, voice cold and precise, "I'm not angry with you." Which is nice to know--and at least confirms that he's mad and not some other flavor of upset--but it still isn't very helpful.

"Okay," Bull says. "So who _are_ you mad at?"

There's another painful silence as Dorian works his way down the buttons on his shirt, jerking at them like he's trying to rip them off. When he gets to the last one, he says, "I did something very stupid."

"Oh?"

"I...misjudged a situation and then failed to pay attention to a number of signs that my judgment was...in error." His tone is still cold and precise. His movements are anything but: he's trying to get his cufflinks free, and all he's getting for his trouble is more pissed off.

Heat edges in as he adds, "I've made my apologies to the other partners, and I will, of course, do all the work that needs to be done to fix this, but I...do not like making mistakes."

Okay, so they're talking about work, not anything that happened with Max or Aquinea or--god help him--Rilienus. As much as Bull knows how important work is to Dorian, he relaxes a little anyway. Because now that he's got that important piece of information, he's beginning to suspect that Dorian's anger is at least half wounded pride. He's too wrapped up in being the perfect lawyer to let something like this go.

Dorian jerks at his cufflinks again, so hard Bull is surprised something doesn't give: the shirt, the cufflink, Dorian's temper. On his next attempt, no more coordinated than the previous ones, he pulls hard enough that his hand slips and the corners on the decorative top of the cufflink scratch him.

His nostrils flare, and he looks like he's about to do something he'll regret later. Before he can, Bull steps forward and grabs his wrist. "Hey," he says quietly, "let me help."

Without looking at him, Dorian twists his arm to free himself. Bull holds on for a second, mostly on instinct, then lets go as soon as he realizes what he's doing. Dorian pulls his arm in close to rub his wrist with his free hand, and Bull feels a stab of guilt.

"Sorry," he begins, then Dorian looks up, and the words die in his throat.

Because Bull knows that look, even if it doesn't usually include a side order of seriously pissed off. He'd call it a speculative look, except it's way past that. Anticipatory, maybe. Though in Dorian's current mood, predatory might be closer.

Dorian smiles, too angry for it to be anything other than alarming. "Green light."

Bull hesitates. Normally, he's perfectly happy to slam Dorian back against a wall and rip his clothes off, but tonight...tonight that seems like a really bad idea. If Bull can even bring himself to wreck a suit that expensive, and he's not sure he can.

On the other hand, it would give Dorian a chance to think about something else for a while, and that would be nothing but good.

"If we do this," Bull says at last, "we do it on my terms."

Dorian’s eyes narrow. "And those would be?"

"I'm in charge," Bull says.

"That's rather the idea." Dorian is smirking, but it's still got an edge to it.

"No," Bull says. "When I say I'm in charge, I mean _I'm_ in charge. Which means you do what I say. I'm not going to grab you, or hold you down, or any of that. If you push back at any point, it’ll be like you said the safeword." He looks into Dorian's eyes, making sure Dorian understands how serious he is. "I say it. You do it. Got me?"

Dorian thinks about it, eyes still narrowed. Probably trying to figure out how much of that is negotiable. He comes to the right conclusion eventually--none of it--and sighs. "Fine. You're in charge."

It's clear he's not happy, and Bull stays wary, wondering if he's going to regret this. If they're _both_ going to regret this.

"Okay," he says, giving himself a second to settle his thoughts. He takes three steps backward, putting space between the two of them, and folds his arms over his chest. Gaze locked on Dorian's, he says, "Finish getting undressed."

Dorian jerks at the same cufflink he was fighting with earlier, and Bull adds, "Carefully. If anything rips or breaks, we're done."

That gets him another narrow-eyed look, and when Dorian goes back to the cufflink, he moves with exaggerated care. Bull hadn't known it was possible for someone to take off a shirt sarcastically, but Dorian manages it.

He slips at the end, though, yanking his undershirt off over his head hard enough that the fabric creaks. Nothing rips, and Dorian shoots him a triumphant look, as if he's gotten away with something.

It's kind of funny, actually, but Bull doesn't let that show. "If you want to stop, all you have to do is say so."

"Maybe I don't want to stop," Dorian says, chin up. "Maybe I want you to punish me."

Bull hums thoughtfully and waits.

"Maybe I like pain after all."

"Maybe you do," Bull agrees. "And yeah, if you're going to be a brat, I'm going to punish you."

Dorian looks way too pleased with himself, but Bull doesn't say anything about it, just turns and points to a spot on the floor about five feet away from the chest at the foot of the bed. "Kneel there, facing the bed."

That, at least, he does quickly. Silently, too, without even a nonverbal protest: he just folds himself down and sits back on his heels, shoulders straight and eyes forward. The muscles in his back are too tight, though, almost trembling with tension, and his hands are curled into fists where they rest on his thighs.

Bull moves around the room, keeping part of his attention on Dorian without being obvious about it. A change of clothes first, swapping sneakers and blue jeans for bare feet and sweatpants, then a quick look through the chest at the foot of the bed for the handful of things he needs. He makes sure Dorian can see the velcro cuffs he pulls out, but he keeps the rest of it out of sight while making it obvious that he’s hiding something.

Interest flashes across Dorian's face before anger gets the upper hand again, his shoulders rolling without doing anything to reduce the tension. Well, that’s going to get worse before it gets better, and Bull just hopes he isn't misjudging the situation.

He doesn't let that show on his face as he sets the cuffs on top of the closed lid of the chest and slides everything else into the nightstand, blocking the drawer with his body so Dorian still doesn't know what any of it is. When he turns back around, he catches another flash of curiosity, gone just as fast as the first one. Dorian is back to equal parts smug and pissed by the time Bull gets into bed and props himself against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him.

As Bull gets his phone out, the anger is replaced by confusion. The anger comes back pretty fast, though, when Bull turns the phone on and goes back to the book he was reading when the front door opened. From this angle, he can pretend to ignore Dorian completely, his eyes locked on the screen of his phone. When he feels the need to make sure Dorian isn't about to lose it, he can switch over to the camera and check, even if he doesn't actually take a picture.

The minutes tick by like that, Bull "reading" and Dorian seething. Bull's personal bet is five minutes before Dorian asks the obvious question. It'll take at least that long for anger and curiosity to win over stubbornness.

At five minutes and eleven seconds, Dorian's stubbornness loses the fight, and he snaps out, "I thought you were punishing me."

Without looking up, Bull answers, "I am."

"And how is this a punishment?"

Bull finally lifts his gaze from his phone and raises his eyebrows. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

Dorian opens his mouth to make some sarcastic comment, and then the penny drops. Bull waits, trying not to hold his breath. Fortunately, Dorian's sense of humor breaks through the anger, his mouth twitching into a smile he can't quite stop.

Before that smile can fade, Bull sits up, swinging his legs to the floor so he's now sitting on the edge of the bed. One forearm propped on a thigh, he cocks his head to the side and meets Dorian's gaze squarely. "The way I see it," he says evenly, "you've got a bunch of options."

The humor has faded, but the anger hasn't come back yet. More confident, Bull goes on, raising his other hand to tick off those options. "Option one. You can keep on doing what you're doing, saying you want to play but acting like a brat. Which means you might want to get comfortable, because you're gonna be there a while."

He pauses, but Dorian just narrows his eyes slightly. Annoyed, not angry. Good.

"Option two," Bull goes on. "You can tell me you do like pain after all, in which case, we stop, and we talk about it, and then maybe _some other night_ we try it."

This time, Dorian's eyes cut to the left. Embarrassed, and Bull knows he called that one right. Even better.

"Option three." He raises a third finger for emphasis. "You can safeword it, or just stand up, and we can do this the old fashioned way. You can complain about how I butter my toast or fold my shirts or whatever damn thing people yell about when they're just trying to pick a fight."

The corners of Dorian's mouth twitch into another brief smile, and Bull relaxes completely as he holds up a fourth finger. "Or," he says, drawing the word out, "you can play the game on my terms, without trying to cheat."

He keeps those four fingers in the air for a second longer, then drops his hand down to dangle between his knees. "Your choice."

This time, Dorian surprises him. Bull had figured anger and stubbornness together would keep Dorian quiet for at least a minute, but it's maybe five seconds before Dorian's shoulders slump and his head bows as he murmurs, "Sorry."

"That mean you're going to play on my terms?" Bull asks, but gently.

Dorian nods silently, face still turned down toward the carpet.

"Okay," Bull says. "Then get the cuffs and come here." He waits until Dorian is gathering himself to stand before adding, "One thing, though."

Dorian pauses and looks up, his expression questioning.

"You wanted a punishment," Bull says, watching him closely, "so here's the rest of it. You don't get to stand up."

A little of the anger comes back, mixed with embarrassment, and Bull waits to see if he balks. There's still time for them to argue about the best way to butter toast, after all. Bull would much rather spend the evening doing other things, but it all depends on Dorian right now.

No matter how long it feels, it's not more than another couple seconds before Dorian ducks his head back down and gets to his hands and knees. Bull lets out a long, silent breath, trying to pretend he knew all along what choice Dorian would make.

Crawling is awkward, and Dorian is about as graceful at it as anyone. He's still angry and embarrassed when he gets to the chest and picks up the cuffs. It only gets worse when he has to go the last few feet from the chest to Bull in a limping gait on knees, one hand, and one fist.

At Bull's feet, he sits back on his heels again and offers up the cuffs. That defiant look is back on his face, but this time, it's just a mask to hide the embarrassment. Which is fine: Bull hadn't expected him to be happy about this part.

He takes the cuffs and says, as seriously as if Dorian's just done him a big favor, "Thank you."

It gets him a slightly suspicious look that fades into confusion when he sees that Bull is completely sincere. Dorian replies with a jerky nod, so obviously uncertain that Bull wants to smile. No surprise he doesn't understand, but maybe the message will sink in subconsciously, sooner or later: Bull doesn't respect him less, just because he embarrassed himself.

Setting the cuffs to one side, Bull cups his chin in both hands, tilting his face up for a series of kisses, soft and slow, their mouths just barely brushing. Dorian sits quietly, waiting for each kiss without trying to chase after them, and after a while, his eyes close, his lips parting very slightly.

"Good," Bull murmurs approvingly, and he doesn't miss the way Dorian shivers just a little. "So good."

Dorian exhales, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. Not enough, but it's a start.

"Okay," Bull says, letting go of Dorian to pick up one of the cuffs. "Right wrist."

Right, then left, then both so Bull can clip the cuffs together in front before shifting backward on the bed just enough that Dorian can rest his forehead on the edge of the mattress between Bull's knees. Dorian sighs as his head settles there and again when Bull runs firm hands through his hair, rubbing circles against his scalp, at his temples, down the tight muscles in the back of his neck.

His shoulders are just as tight as his neck, but as Bull digs his fingers into them, they gradually relax, knots loosening one by one. Dorian doesn't make a sound, even though some of them have to hurt. If anything, his breathing gets steadier, a slow rise and fall like he's gone to sleep, and Bull is going to laugh if he has.

And maybe he did, at least briefly, because when Bull finally cups his face and raises it again, his eyes blink open slowly. They're a little unfocused in what could as easily be sleepiness as subspace, but when Bull murmurs, "You're being so good," his eyes close again and he tips his chin up a little more. Begging for a kiss, if the small noise he makes is anything to go by.

So Bull gives it to him. A deeper one than before, tongue slipping into Dorian's mouth, and he hums approvingly when Dorian opens wider for him. Beyond that, Dorian holds perfectly still, even when Bull bites his lower lip. His breathing isn't so steady now, and his dick is starting to get hard, down between his legs. His hands are still clenched into fists, but Bull's pretty sure it's not anger making them tight anymore.

He threads his fingers through Dorian's hair again, sliding his hands around until his fingers meet at the back of Dorian's head, Bull's thumbs resting on the hinge of his jaw. From there, it's easy to stroke lightly over the curve of Dorian's ear, drawing out a small, surprised gasp that makes Bull smile.

There's no rush to it, no need to hurry, and Bull revels in it. He enjoys a quick, uncomplicated fuck as much as anyone, but this...this is something they don't always have time for, and Bull is happy to take that time now. To enjoy Dorian giving up everything to him, wanting but waiting for whatever Bull will let him have, pulled out of his head for more than a few minutes in a row. Dorian floating on the edge of subspace, just starting to sink down into it, is a thing of beauty, and Bull tells him so, whispers the words against his mouth as he cradles Dorian's head in his hands.

When Dorian is so relaxed Bull’s hands are the only thing holding him up, Bull kisses him one last time and murmurs, "I'm going to let go of you." Dorian makes a protesting noise and starts to open his eyes, only to stop when Bull hushes him gently. "I'll still be here, big guy, I just need my hands for a second. I need you to hold yourself up, though. Can you do that for me?"

Dorian mumbles something, his chin dipping down in a slow nod.

"Good," Bull says, stroking his cheek before he lets go. Carefully, waiting to be sure Dorian isn't going to fall over without that support, but after a second of swaying, Dorian finds his balance and steadies himself.

That leaves Bull free to open the nightstand drawer and dig out one of the things he put there earlier: a blindfold. It's something Dorian sometimes likes and sometimes doesn't, so Bull wraps it around his head without fastening it, then asks, "Okay?"

Dorian answers by tilting his head down, making it easy for Bull to overlap the ends and press the velcro together. As soon as that's done, Dorian turns his face up again, letting Bull arrange the blindfold to be sure it's covering his eyes completely.

"There we go." He strokes his fingers over Dorian's cheek just beneath where the blindfold rests, following the line of it from one temple to the other. "Beautiful," he whispers, and Dorian's breath hitches.

Without breaking contact with Dorian's skin, Bull runs his hands down and bends forward until he can cup each of Dorian's elbows. "Stand up for me."

Dorian isn't entirely steady, his legs stiff from kneeling, but that's okay; he just needs to be on his feet long enough for Bull to stand and maneuver them around so that Dorian is the one with his back to the bed. From there, it only takes a few light touches to have him lying on his back in the center of the bed.

"Stay just like that," Bull says. "I'll tell you when you need to move."

He leaves Dorian like that long enough to slide out of his sweatpants and pull open the nightstand drawer again. With the blindfold in place, he doesn't have to worry about Dorian peeking, which means he can leave the drawer conveniently open for when he needs the next thing he hid there. Just to make Dorian wonder, he riffles through the drawer, letting the contents rattle against each other, condom wrappers crinkling while chapsticks and the occasional pencil click against the bottle of lube and other, more interesting things.

"Hands above your head," he says at last. Dorian obeys instantly, and Bull takes a second to appreciate the view, Dorian's arms stretched up and pulling the rest of his body tight, his dick hard against his stomach and his legs just a little bit open.

Those spread thighs are an invitation Bull can't resist. Keeping his touch light, he runs his fingers up the inside of Dorian's leg from his knee to his groin, pushing Dorian's legs wider as he goes until there's enough room for him to cup Dorian's balls in his hand, stroking his thumb across the skin. The muscles in Dorian's stomach and thighs jump, controlling a jerk, but the rest of his body stays perfectly still.

"Fuck, you look good." And does he ever. Bull thinks about stroking him like this, just jerking him off until he comes.

It would be hot as hell, but Bull withdraws his hand anyway, not ready for this to be done so fast. There's lots of time left in the evening, and besides, he wants to see Dorian work for it a little more, even if not quite the way Dorian expected.

"So good," he says softly, just to make sure Dorian is listening before he goes on. "I'm going to suck your dick, and you don't get to come until I say, but I'm not going to make it easy on you."

Dorian's breath hitches, then evens out again.

Bull smiles and reaches into the drawer of the nightstand for the next thing he wants. "So you can decide if you want a little help, but once you decide, that's it. No changing your mind later." He rolls the cock ring between his fingers and very deliberately doesn't tell Dorian what he's holding. "Do you want the help?"

The headshake is immediate and emphatic.

"Okay," Bull says with a smile, tossing the cock ring back into the drawer and taking out the lube and a couple condoms, along with the last thing he put in there earlier. He tosses all of it onto the bed on the other side of Dorian, far enough that it won't roll toward them as they move around, then digs behind the headboard for the rope to clip the cuffs onto.

"That's all the help you get," Bull says with a smile, bending down to kiss Dorian again. "So take advantage of it. You can move all you want now."

The mattress sinks under their combined weight as he kneels between Dorian's thighs and spreads them wider with gentle hands. Dorian's muscles are jumping already, anticipating what happens next, only to go completely still when Bull tears open the condom wrapper.

Bull waits just long enough for him to start to relax before rolling it on, enjoying the way Dorian's hips twitch before he stops himself. "I meant it," Bull says as he strokes his hand downward. "You don't have to stay still anymore, unless you want to."

Though Bull intends to make sure he can't, even if he wants to. No build-up, no teasing: Bull takes half his dick on the first stroke, bracing his arms across Dorian's thighs to control another involuntary thrust, this one a lot more than a twitch. And if Dorian expected to get even a small break there, he's going to be disappointed, because Bull keeps going, working to take every inch of Dorian's cock as fast as he can.

Up and down, mouth tight, and Dorian is already pulling at the cuffs, the muscles standing out in his arms as his shoulders lift off the bed. He can't do much with his hips pinned under Bull's weight, but his abs are tight as he tries to curl inward against the rope anyway. Bull usually likes to tease, and he suspects at least half Dorian's reaction is pure surprise at how fast this has escalated.

Whatever the cause, Bull doesn't give him even a second to recover. He sucks Dorian like they might get caught if they don't hurry, his own dick getting harder the more Dorian twists under him, Dorian's hips the only part of his body that can't move. Even his feet are moving now, trying to get purchase on the sheets with his thighs spread wide enough to accommodate Bull's shoulders. His jaw is clenched, every breath harsh as he sucks in air between gritted teeth, and it isn't very long at all before small noises start breaking free, desperate whines and the occasional grunt as he jerks against the rope.

Those noises take on a panicked edge, and Bull lifts his head up, letting Dorian's cock slide from his mouth. Dorian makes a sound that could be relief or frustration, his body tight for several seconds more before he sags back to the bed. He's panting open-mouthed now, his face and chest flushed, and Bull says, smiling, "I told you I wasn't going to make this easy."

He doesn't give Dorian a chance to think past that. One hand guides Dorian's cock back to his mouth, then his forearm is back across Dorian's hip and he's going down as far as he can, opening his throat to take all of it. No pause until his lips are around the base and he can swallow around the head, Dorian already starting to shake again.

He's so easy to tease now. His body is desperate for it, whatever his mind wants: to get that close and then stop is torture, the way Bull knew it would be. So he takes Dorian up to the edge before backing off again, then does it a third time. Dorian is shaking so hard the third time Bull stops, he worries for a second that he missed the timing and Dorian is going to come. He doesn't, though, and Bull sits up, rubbing a hand over each thigh to give him a little bit longer to recover.

"Yeah," he says, loud enough for Dorian to hear over his own panting, "yeah, just like that, keep being good for me just like that."

While Dorian fights for control--and air--Bull grabs the bottle of lube and opens it as quietly as he can, cupping his hand around the cap to soften the sound of it snapping open. Dorian is lost in his struggle, leaving Bull free to pour lube over the last thing he grabbed out of the chest before they started: a slim glass dildo, the head gently rounded and the shaft completely smooth all the way to the base.

Dorian's breathing isn't back to normal, but at least he no longer sounds like he just ran a marathon. Bull calls that good enough and lies back down, propping himself up on one elbow as he wraps his lips around Dorian's cock again. Dorian tenses, waiting for the next assault, but Bull does nothing more than suck lightly on the head, pausing occasionally to swirl his tongue around and under it.

If he's smiling to himself while he waits for the right moment, Dorian can't see it.

Gradually, Dorian relaxes, enjoying the feel of Bull's mouth but not overwhelmed by it. His hips are rolling a little, slowly, and his hands are curled in loose fists, the muscles in his arms no longer pulled tight.

Right up until Bull fucks him with the glass cock. It isn't rough or quick, but it is relentless, Bull's hand guiding it in all the way to the base, and Dorian's whole body spasms. His hands clench, jerking against the cuffs hard enough the velcro protests, and his back arches, driving his cock deeper into Bull's mouth. When his hips rock back the other way, trying to get relief from a different kind of stimulation, Bull follows him down to pin him between the toy in his ass and the mouth around his dick.

With his nose pressed to Dorian's stomach, Bull pushes against the base of the dildo to angle it a bit, rotating it in small circles as he swallows and tries to pretend he doesn't need to breathe. When he can't pretend any more, he goes back to longer strokes, fast and hard, fucking his own mouth with Dorian's cock.

Dorian jerks again, and this time, he makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a sob, higher pitched than usual as it squeezes out between clenched teeth. Bull stops immediately, pulling his mouth back and holding the toy completely still as Dorian shakes, mouth pressed together so tightly he's not even breathing. It lasts so long his face is bright red before he sags back to the bed and takes a deep, shuddering breath.

Watching him gasp, Bull smiles and rubs a hand up and down his thigh. "Yeah," he murmurs. Not really trying to say anything, just wanting Dorian to hear his voice, the approval in it. "Yeah."

Dorian shivers and makes a small noise, begging wordlessly.

"Not yet," Bull says. He kisses the crease between Dorian's hip and thigh, rubbing his cheek against it hard enough to make the stubble scrape. "But if you keep being good for me, maybe it'll be soon."

Another one of those begging noises is the only answer he gets. That, and Dorian's body trembling under his hands.

Bull waits, lets that shaking die down to the occasional tremor, then tilts the glass cock again, turning it very slowly. Dorian twitches but doesn't jump the way he did before. So maybe it will be soon after all.

Or maybe not, because when Bull goes back to teasing him, he recovers fast, pulling against the cuffs as hard as he was before, his body not yet worn out. He's pretty fit for a guy who sits at a desk all day, and that's definitely not to his advantage right now. Bull is enjoying the hell out of it, though.

And yeah, Dorian is way too fit for his own good tonight: it takes another three rounds before his muscles are trembling from exhaustion rather than excitement. Three more times Bull takes him up to the edge without letting him cross it, until his arms hang limp, the muscles in his thighs twitching. That high, whining moan is nearly continuous before Bull takes pity on him.

While Dorian gets his breath back one last time, Bull eases the glass cock free and drops it carefully over the side of the bed. Dorian exhales sharply, then again when Bull kisses the head of his dick.

"Okay," Bull says soothingly, already stripping the condom off Dorian's cock. "It's okay, I've got you."

Exhausted as he is, Dorian can't do more than lie there as Bull unclips the cuffs from the rope and rolls him onto his side, bound hands stretched out in front of him to give his shoulders a break while leaving most of his body uncovered. Something Bull intends to take advantage of, just as soon as he can.

His own hands are shaking a little as he tears open another condom, and he takes a second to give _himself_ a break. A few slow, deep breaths help him get back in control, and the shaking has stopped by the time he's stroking lube over his dick.

It wants to start again as he curls up against Dorian's back, one hand guiding his cock between the cheeks of Dorian's ass and then in. He takes it slow, but Dorian's head thrashes against his shoulder anyway, fingers tangling together as he tries to find something to hold on to.

"Here we go," Bull whispers, stretching an arm under Dorian's head so he can put his hand between Dorian's. "Hang on to me, baby, I've got you."

Dorian whimpers, his face turning into Bull's arm as his hands grab for Bull's. He's shaking again, and now that they're pressed together like this, Bull can feel it everywhere. He closes his eye to concentrate better, his free hand on Dorian's hip to hold him steady while Bull finds the right rhythm.

It's a slow and easy rhythm at first, Bull moving carefully as he tries to gauge how close Dorian is to falling completely apart. Pretty close, if the sounds he's making are anything to go by. Sounds that rise in pitch when Bull slides his hand across Dorian's stomach and up his chest to pinch one nipple, hard. Dorian is too exhausted to do more than twitch, which is exactly what Bull wanted.

"Oh yeah," he breathes into Dorian's hair, picking up his pace a little as he pinches the other nipple. "You were so good for me, so fucking good. And so fucking _hot_." He brushes his thumb lightly over the nipple he just pinched, then pinches it again just as hard as the last time. "You look so good like that, trying so hard for me, and I know you wanted to come, but you didn't."

Dorian is moving as much as his exhausted body will allow, pressing weakly back against Bull's strokes. Bull flattens his hand against Dorian's chest, holding him still. "Shhh, baby, I got you, I'll take care of you."

He's not sure Dorian can actually understand him at this point, but whether it's the words or the hand pinning him in place, Dorian stops moving. Lets himself be fucked in thrusts that get harder and longer, lets Bull wrap a hand around his dick to stroke him in time with those thrusts. Waits for Bull to give it to him, rather than trying to take it.

Bull keeps his face pressed into Dorian's hair, whispering praises in between his own gasps for breath, telling him how good he is, how beautiful, how perfect. Dorian is shaking again, exhausted muscles unable to hold completely still, even his moans trembling now. His hands grip Bull's as hard as they can, and Bull can feel his body tense even though his muscles must be achingly tired.

"Yeah, just like that," Bull says. "No more teasing, I promise, we're done with that, I just want to see you come." He kisses Dorian's shoulder, the back of his ear. "I want to feel it, you feel so good when you come. I want to hear it, all those little noises you make when you forget to be quiet. Don't be quiet, let me hear you."

Dorian's face turns deeper into Bull's arm, and he's shaking so hard the whole mattress is shaking, and when Bull whispers, "Come for me," he does, voice harsh as he cries out.

"Fuck, yes," Bull whispers, stroking him through it until he's limp and boneless. He's still making noise, though, a soft moan on every breath, and that's more than Bull can take. His hips move faster, fucking Dorian hard, and Dorian groans, head tilting back against Bull's chest, and Bull comes, eye squeezed shut and Dorian shivering and groaning against him.

Even after it's over, his own body nearly as limp as Dorian's, Bull doesn't open his eye for a long while. He'd rather lie here listening to Dorian breathe, feel the last tremors work their way through both their bodies, and just...be here.

When he does finally have to get up, he skips all but the most cursory cleanup so he can crawl back into bed with Dorian that much sooner. Under the blankets this time, but otherwise, it's the exact same position, Dorian spooned up against his chest. He's breathing lightly now, shallow and even, and Bull thinks he's asleep until he murmurs in a creaky voice, "Thank you."

Bull kisses the top of his head and wraps his arm a little more securely around Dorian's chest. "Anything for you, big guy." He rests his cheek against Dorian's hair and adds softly, "Anything at all."


End file.
